


Home Before Midnight

by lesbianmulders



Category: The X-Files
Genre: A Little Bit Sappy, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, I DIDNT KNOW THAT WAS A TAG KSDHFJKGDG BUT IM HERE FOR IT LMAO, Long-Distance Relationship, Men Crying, No Plot/Plotless, Phone Calls & Telephones, author is an unreliable narrator and doesn't know how to tag this objectively, kind of not really, which one of you is gonna bail me out of jail when the ooc police come for me, why does someone always cry in my fics what is wrong with me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29232414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianmulders/pseuds/lesbianmulders
Summary: He’s not sure how he used to do it. Three years ago, Scully leaving meant unfinished paperwork and pencils stuck in the ceiling. Now, misery replaces boredom and his too-empty apartment no longer feels like home. He carries two cups of coffee to the office every morning out of habit, and he’s caught himself calling out to her from the storage room or rambling about a casefile to an audience of zero.(or, Mulder misses the sound of Scully's voice.)
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	Home Before Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> mulder/scully fic is so fun to write. i did it once and now i Just Can't Stop. thank you @lesbianscullies for encouraging me to actually write all my terrible ideas instead of letting them live in my head forever and ever. love ya <3
> 
> scully's answering machine message is not canon, by the way. i couldn't remember in which episode (if any) they let us hear it, so i just made something up.
> 
> EDIT 06/02/21: replaced the answering machine message with the one from en ami
> 
> enjoy!

“This is Dana Scully. I'm not in right now, please leave a message after the beep.”

_Click._

Mulder hangs up on Scully’s answering machine for what must be the millionth time this week. He’s been calling whenever he feels lonely, not expecting her to pick up and never leaving a message. He calls just to hear her voice, so that he can pretend that she’s there next to him for all of fifteen seconds and not miles away at some two-week long pathology conference he wasn’t invited to.

It’s dark, and Mulder hadn’t bothered turning on the lights. The reddish-orange glow of the streetlight filters in through half-open blinds, casting literal shadows onto the walls right next to the figurative ones.

He lets his cell phone drop onto the couch cushions next to him and buries his head in his hands.

“I miss you, Scully,” he mumbles into the empty apartment. The words echo off the walls, a painful reminder of all the newly vacant space. Although they haven’t officially moved in together, they spend most nights in the same bed at either her apartment or his. Her cereal is in his pantry and his orange juice is in her fridge and Mulder owns two toothbrushes now — one to keep in her bathroom and one to keep in his. Her floral shampoo joins his in the shower and his brand of shaving cream is on her bathroom counter right next to her favorite strawberry-scented lotion. Scully buys him sunflower seeds on her weekly grocery run and Mulder cooks dinner in her kitchen on Saturday nights and breakfast on Sunday mornings and it’s beautiful and domestic and unconventional and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

He’s not sure how he used to do it. Three years ago, Scully leaving meant unfinished paperwork and pencils stuck in the ceiling. Now, misery replaces boredom and his too-empty apartment no longer feels like home. He carries two cups of coffee to the office every morning out of habit, and he’s caught himself calling out to her from the storage room or rambling about a casefile to an audience of zero. 

He sighs into his hands. He misses her so, _so_ much. If only she would call him. Too bad she’s busy with the conference and keeps her phone turned off at all times. He’d considered buying a plane ticket and simply flying out there to see her, but Skinner had flat out refused to give him time off. Something about paperwork and expense reports and giving Agent Scully a well-deserved break. _That_ had shut him up real quick. Skinner was right. Maybe Scully _did_ need a break.

Not that it makes things any easier for him. He misses her like crazy. She’s become a part of him, his better half, his one in five billion. Being without her is a little bit like being unable to breathe — terrifying and unusual and dizzying and heart-stopping in all the worst ways.

She’s always been better at CPR than he is.

He lets one hand fall away from his face, limp and cold. He pats the couch cushions, searching for the phone he’d been holding not even a minute ago with the intent to call Scully’s answering machine (again). To his surprise, the phone goes off as soon as his fingers close in around it. He straightens up and jerks his hand upwards, resting the phone against his ear.

“Mulder,” he mutters into the receiver, trying to keep his voice neutral. In reply, he hears what might just be the most beautiful phrase he’s ever heard.

“Mulder, it’s me.”

He gasps, his breath shaky.

“Scully—?” He chokes out, and there are tears in his eyes all of a sudden — when did that happen? He blinks, trying to clear his vision.

“Yeah, Mulder. How’re you holdin’ up without me?” She asks, and her voice feels like a cool glass of the sweetest iced tea on a hot day. He presses the phone closer to his ear with both hands as if it’ll help him hold onto her. She’s not coming back to D.C. until next weekend, and he wants to memorize the way she sounds while he’s got her on the phone, in case this is the last time he hears from her until then. 

He realizes that she’s still waiting for him to reply, but when he opens his mouth to speak all that comes out is a choked sob. He barely hears her gasp on the other end of the line.

“Mulder? Mulder, what’s wrong? Is everything alright?” The phone almost slips from his grasp when he hears the concern in her voice, but he catches it before it can fall.

“I’m sorry, Scully, I— I’ll call you back,” he manages in between sobs and quickly snaps the phone shut. Cradling the device against his chest, he tries to compose himself. Scully might not have much time available to talk, and he’d rather not waste it being all emotional and teary-eyed. His breaths are shaky and his face is hot and he can’t quite stop the tears that are dripping down his cheeks. He squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head up towards the ceiling, trying to calm his suddenly erratic breathing. The phone clatters to the floor and he doesn’t hear his door open or someone’s hurried footsteps walking in. He doesn’t hear his name being called, either, but he _does_ feel the warm hands that close in around his and he _does_ catch a whiff of strawberry-scented lotion.

He freezes.

“ _Mulder,_ ” she whispers, and he hears her this time. He opens his eyes and finds himself looking into her brilliant blue ones. Overcome with emotion, he pitches forward towards her, and she’s quick to wrap her arms around him and pull him tight against her chest. Her hands are in his hair and his fingers clutch at the back of the coat she’s wearing and she’s all around him and she’s here _she’s here she’s here she’s here she’s here._

She pulls back a little, and for a moment he’s afraid she’s going to let go of him completely. Instead, she moves to sit next to him on the couch and swiftly pulls him down into her lap. He presses his face against her stomach, burying his nose in the soft fabric of the shirt she’s wearing. She smells like laundry detergent and floral shampoo and that specific airplane smell that most people hate but to him, it’s okay because he’s smelling it on _her._ Her fingers skitter up and down his back in a comforting gesture.

“It’s okay, Mulder, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m here,” she mutters against the top of his head. He nods against her, and she presses the gentlest of kisses into his messy hair. 

They stay like that for quite some time. When his breathing returns to normal and the tears stop, he sits up straight. She reaches up to cup his face with one hand.

“Mulder, what happened? What was that all about?” She asks, tracing his jawline with a soft fingertip. He shrugs in response.

“I missed you, Scully. I missed you so much,” he confesses with a sniffle. She leans forward, presses her perfect lips to the tip of his nose, and brushes the tears away from his cheeks with the palm of her hand.

“I missed you too, Mulder. I’m sorry I didn’t call,” she says, and he nods against her hand.

“Don’t worry about it, Scully. I know you were busy. Hey, weren’t you supposed to come back next weekend? Why so early?” He questions as she pulls her hands away from his face and snuggles up against his chest.

“I wanted to be home sooner. I got tired of sleeping alone,” she explains, and his breath catches in his throat when she says the word ‘ _home._ ’ He takes her chin in between his fingers and gently tilts her face up. There’s a rose blush dusting her cheeks and a soft smile on her lips and he leans down to kiss her with all the love and passion he can put in that single gesture. They melt together, and when she pulls back he feels like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. She places the palm of her hand on the back of his neck and presses her forehead to his. 

“Mulder,” she whispers, her warm breath brushing his face. A shiver runs down his spine. She's here. She's home. He's so _relieved._

“Scully,” he replies, his voice barely audible, more of a sigh than anything else. She grasps his shoulders and lets herself fall back onto the cushions, pulling him down with her. He shifts around until they’re both comfortable — his body pressed against the back of the couch and her body pressed against him. He wraps his arms around her waist and she holds onto his torso. He catches a glimpse of the clock on the wall just before he closes his eyes. 11:21pm. He smiles.

They fall asleep like that some time later, a mess of tangled limbs and even more tangled emotions. It’s cramped, too tight of a fit for both of them to sleep comfortably. If you ask Mulder, it’s the best he’s slept in a week and a half.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!! i hope you enjoyed it :D


End file.
